A Cross Purpose
by Effigy
Summary: Connor and Murphy head to Miami to take out a child predator, but they've unknowingly offended a family of mobsters who will stop at nothing to take them out.
1. Murphy's Night Out

**Author's Notes: Please review the story so that I know if people are interested. If no one is interested then there isn't much reason for me to finish. I'm on chapter five right now, so I'm ahead of the game. And I'll try to update every Monday night until finished.**

**Warning: This fan fiction contains strong language, graphic violence, drug use and sex. If any of this offends you, discontinue reading now.**

Disclaimer: I do not own nor make a profit from the Boondock Saints or any characters from the film. Any likeness to any original characters or situations is purely coincidental. This disclaimer extends for this chapter and all following chapters.

Chapter I: Murphy's Night Out

"Another child has turned up dead in a heinous crime spree that continues to terrorize Miami. Carla Sweeney, age 8, was found stabbed to death early yesterday morning in a park…"

Murphy took a deep drag of his cigarette as he tried to calm the anger creeping up on him while he watched the news. The violence in America has been steadily climbing even though the Saints have been trying their best to destroy the evil. Curious to his brother's reaction, Murphy glanced over at Connor only to find him enthralled in reading Don Quixote.

"Don't ye fuckin' care, Con?"

"What the hell are ye talkin' 'bout?"

"That sick fuck in Miami. They say that's the sixth child he's fuckin' killed. We need to go after him."

"We have to lay off for a while, Murph. Things are a little too heated at the moment."

"He's killing off children! How long do you want to wait? Until he's killed ten kids? Fifteen?"

Connor shot a glance at his brother and noticed his restless appearance. Murphy was bouncing his leg up and down in a nervous manner. He was chain smoking like he was trying to finish the pack before their mother came home and whopped them both because they were too young to be smoking. And Connor knew that a restless Murphy was dangerous.

"Look, it's almost midnight, so we won't be leavin' tonight. We'll head down that way tomorrow, but we can't be doing anything until things blow over here."

"No one's gonna connect the Saints to what we'll do in Miami."

"It's not a risk we'll take. We'll do no good rottin' away in prison."

"It's a deal, but I'm going fuckin' crazy. I'm going to McGinty's. Do ye wanna go?"

Connor shook his head and lit another cigarette, turning back to his book. With a sigh, Murphy stood, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

"Hey Murph! Don't get arrested again!"

"No promises!" came a muffled reply from behind the door. Connor listened as his brother's footsteps faded into the night leaving him in a thick silence. As much as he loved him, they occasionally needed time apart. Especially before driving to Florida. He turned back to his book again trying to concentrate on the chapter. With an annoyed huff, he threw himself out of the chair and onto the couch. Switching the TV on and grabbing the bottle of Maker's Mark he resumed his previous task. At least now he would be comfortable.

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Murphy made his way down the dark streets of Boston. Although he was craving a pint, he also had a desire to play billiards. So instead of heading towards McGinty's, he made an abrupt turn out of his Irish neighborhood and towards the Corner Pocket.

As he entered the smoky bar, he glanced around to find it full and lively tonight. There were too many beautiful women for Murphy to ignore, so he made a beeline straight to the bar. Nudging his way between a group of especially hot women, he tapped the counter.

"I need a shot of whiskey, a Guinness, and whatever this lovely lady would like to drink."

Turning to the brunette beside him, he flashed her a broad smile and waited for her answer.

"Long Island Iced Tea. I'm Trisha" she said as she extended her hand.

"Murphy. So Trisha, care to play a game of pool?"

Several games of pool and too many shots later, Murphy found himself staring down Trisha's shirt as she lined up for a shot. The bar had significantly cleared out and last call was approaching quickly. If he was going to seal the deal, he had to do it now.

"So Trisha" he slurred "After this game why don't we head back to my place…"

Murphy was cut off as the bar door slammed open. Two very drunk men stumbled in and headed towards the bartender. They were almost identical twins. They were both overweight and balding leaving behind a ring of thick black hair. Their look was completed with a large beard that seemed to be growing down their necks. The only obvious difference in them was that one was taller and thus fatter than the other.

The bigger of the men struggled to pull something out of his jacket. Murphy watched them as intently as his hazy mind would allow. Something didn't seem right. Very carefully, he made his way over to the bar and sat beside the two very large men. If something was going to happen he wanted to be there. The shorter one leaned towards the bartender.

"Give me all the money in the register."

Unable to stop himself, Murphy let out a muffled laugh causing the two robbers to give him a stony glare.

"You give us your money too or we'll blow your damn head off."

"You guys are fuckin' idiots to try to rob a place while there are still people in here."

"Shut the hell up you damn mick!"

"Now there's no reason to be fuckin' rude. Why don't you two forget about robbin' the place and take yourselves to mass tomorrow morning?"

Murphy shot a glance at the larger man who continued to struggle with the mystery object in his pocket. To his amusement, both the men looked like clones of Danny DeVito. He knew he would have no problems taking them both out. The shorter one swayed slightly as he turned fully towards Murphy.

"I don't need to be lectured by some catholic pedophile."

Pedophile!? Murphy couldn't believe his ears that this man would stoop so low to call him a pedophile. He was just asking to get his ass kicked. He felt his anger pick up and begin to surge through his veins. Before he had time to fully register his actions, he abruptly stood up, causing the bar stool to crash behind him alerting everyone in the bar. Unfazed by his actions, the short man continued to taunt.

"Wow, an Irishman got drunk and wants to start a bar fight."

Murphy could feel everyone's eyes on him as they waited for his response, as they waited for him to throw the first punch. He knew he would get no help from the other patrons, but by this point it didn't matter. This man had insulted his religion and his heritage. Neither of those men would be walking out of the bar. Murphy stepped closer to the short man and out of the corner of his eye he caught site of the larger man finally tugging free the object from his pocket. He saw a brief flash of the silver pistol before the man stumbled backwards firing the gun in the window. Several people in the crowd screamed and chaos quickly broke out. Taking advantage of this weak moment, Murphy grabbed a fifth of Captain Morgan and swung it towards the short man. It landed on his left temple with a sickening crack.

The drunk short man, oblivious to the pain, lunged towards Murphy; his arms stretched out reaching for his neck. They both crashed to the ground knocking all the air out of Murphy's body as the fat man landed on top of him. His chubby hands grabbed his neck and began to tighten. Groping around aimlessly, Murphy tried to find some object to help him in his battle. Failing to find anything, he swung his arm out in a broad right hook catching the man in the eye. Striking again, he crashed his flat palm into the man's nose.

The man was relentless and unfazed by his new injuries. He continued to tighten his hold on Murphy's neck. Black dots began to dance before Murphy's eyes as the lack of oxygen and high blood alcohol content made him lightheaded. Figuring there was no need to fight fair in a bar fight, he stuck out his thumbs and shoved them into the man's eyes with as much force as he could muster.

The man screamed releasing Murphy's neck and covered his own face. Murphy shot out from under the man and rose to his feet. Rising too quickly the room began to spin causing him to pause briefly and close his eyes.

As he opened them again he saw the larger man come barreling towards him. He grabbed the dartboard from behind him and swung it at the man's head as he arrived. The man staggered backwards to where his twin was standing. Murphy was now facing two very angry Danny DeVitos. The larger man raised his gun and fired shots towards him. He felt a bullet slice his bicep as he dove behind the bar. He scanned the underside of the counter searching for a suitable weapon. Finding nothing but liquor bottles, he scoffed at the idea that a bartender wouldn't keep a gun within reach. Working quickly he grabbed a full bottle of Everclear and a dry rag. Soaking the rag in the liquor, he stuffed half of it into the open bottle. He grabbed his ever present lighter and lit the protruding end ablaze. Shooting up from behind the bar he sent the projectile sailing towards his assailants. Hitting the larger man in the chest, both the liquor and fire spread throughout his body. The man screamed in agony running around the room blindly. He eventually made it through the exit followed closely by his companion.

Murphy watched the door momentarily before coming to the realization that there were still other patrons in the bar. And they all seemed to be watching him. He spied Trisha, the pool shark from earlier, standing in the corner with a frightened look on her face. They caught each other's eyes before she spoke.

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

"Your arm."

Realization and pain dawned upon him as he glanced down at his bloodied arm. Cursing to himself, he grabbed a rag to clean and inspect his wound. Murphy said a silent prayer thanking God when he realized that it was shallow and would heal on its own. There will be no hot iron tonight.

Murphy glanced around the bar surveying the damage. Barstools were broken, shattered glass covered the ground and pools of blood stood out sharply against the décor.

He picked up a fifth of Hennessy and took a bottle shot before setting it down along with a couple of hundred dollars.

"That's for…everything."

He walked out into the cool night air and lit himself a much needed cigarette. After several deep drags he turned and began his trek back to his apartment.

When he opened the door, he saw Connor passed out on the couch. South Park blaring on the TV and an empty bottle of Maker's Mark by his side. He closed the door a little too hard waking Connor with a start. They locked eyes for a moment and Connor visually inspected his newly acquired injuries.

"You look like shit."

"Fuck off! It's been a rough night. I'm going to bed."


	2. Miami Bound

**Author's Note: Many thanks to A posse ad esse and wolfchick11 for reviewing.**

Chapter II: Miami Bound

The morning rays broke through the blinds and began searing Connor's eyelids. He threw his arm over his eyes hoping that he could fight off the sun and score a few more minutes of sleep. Too bad his mouth was noticeably dry from a night of drinking too much whiskey. He pulled himself off the couch attempting to stretch out the kinks in his back. Not only was the couch ugly, but it was terribly uncomfortable. It was a pea green color and had several large rips in it. He and Murphy had found it on the side of the road when they first arrived in Boston. They were strapped for cash and it was free, so neither of them complained. Even though money wasn't a problem now, couch shopping wasn't high on their to-do list.

Connor groggily stalked to the kitchen passing a comatose Murphy on the way. He noticed the bruising that formed around his neck and a hastily made blood soaked bandage on his arm. Considering Murphy, injuries of this nature weren't too uncommon. Making a large pot of coffee, he picked up the phone and dialed one of the few familiar numbers.

"Smecker."

"We're goin' to Florida."

"The investigation isn't going so well that you need to run to Florida."

"We're not runnin', we're goin' after that child murderer."

"Child murderer? When did you start clipping off children?"

"Fuck ye. Ye know exactly what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"I'll see what I can find out, but I may need some kind of bribe."

"A bribe? When did ye get so fuckin' corrupt?"

"Are the Saints going to come after me now? That wouldn't be too bad though. I've been craving some Irish Cream."

"Find out. I'll call ye in a couple o' days."

Connor turned the phone off and threw it to the side. Irish cream? Smecker could be so flamboyant sometimes. His sexual remarks began to grow in number since they met him years ago. He thought it was obvious that neither him nor his brother were gay, but Smecker seemed hell bent on getting one of them to cross over to the other side. Connor was glad that most their conversations took place over the phone. His flirtatious remarks were annoying enough without having to see the gestures as well.

Minutes later Murphy stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee. Listlessly, he plopped down on a kitchen chair next to his brother lighting a cigarette for both of them. They sat in silence for several minutes waiting for the caffeine and nicotine to kick in.

"So what happened to ye?"

"Some fuckin' fat asses tried to rob the Corner Pocket last night."

"Ye look like ye were hung. Ye should wear a turtle neck today."

"I fuckin' hate turtle necks. It's like yer being strangled by a really weak person."

"You'd fuckin' know the difference."

"Lay off. When are we leavin' anyway?"

"After mass if you get yer ass up and pack."

"Fuck off. When did you become the damn older brother?"

Murphy got up in a huff and headed towards the bathroom for a shower. As he passed Connor, he slapped him on the head and pranced his way down the hall. He glanced back to find his brother giving him the finger. Laughing he kicked in the bathroom door and slide in.

Murphy took a moment to inspect himself in the mirror. The bruising around his neck was a stark reminder of last night's antics. Sighing to himself he realized Connor was right. He'd have to wear a turtle neck. They realized early on that going into public with large, noticeable bruises just drew more attention to them and made people ask questions, which they needed to avoid.

What they also needed was down time. Miami seemed like a wonderful place to score some down time. Sun, sand, waves, tequila and women. Could there be a better combination? Murphy was looking forward to this trip. Not only could they take out some sick pedophile freak, but they would do it with style in one of the grandest cities in the world. The thought of the upcoming weeks brought a smile to his face. He couldn't wait to get down there.

And with a sudden realization, Murphy came back from his thoughts and found himself still staring in the mirror. He had been standing there without moving for at least ten minutes. He let out a soft chuckle and stripped down. He was about to break his record for speed showering.

After ten minutes of silence, Connor finally heard the water turn on. He couldn't help the smile that came to his face at the thought of his brother's absentmindedness. With a shake of his head, he stood and strolled to their bedroom. Their bedroom was like the rest of their apartment. Food, clothes, and trash littered the area. The only space spared from their clutter was their two separate twin beds. And even those didn't have sheets on them.

Connor made his way to a pile of clothes thrown into the corner of their room. Grabbing a handful of shirts, he took a whiff of the pile. Separating the decent ones from the pungent ones, he began to pack. After going through the pile, he realized they only had three shirts that didn't smell like a wet dog hadn't rolled and farted on them. He was going to have to do laundry. He hated laundry. It felt like such a wasted portion of life. Grabbing another handful of various clothes he shoved them into a duffle bag and carried everything into the living room. Murphy followed him soon after carrying two black bags full of their "essentials".

"Are ye sure ye showered? Ye smell like someone took a shit on ye."

Murphy lifted up his shirt and smelled it making a face of disgust. "It's all I could fuckin' find. Fabreeze me."

Murphy threw his head back and his hands in the air as if he was in a flamboyant cabaret. Connor then circled him and sprayed him down with the odor eating scent.

"Now ye smell like fresh linen on a summer mornin' in Boston."

"Fuck ye. Let's roll out."

"Roll out? You've been watchin' too much Mtv."

Connor loved going to church. Afterwards it always left him feeling rejuvenated and clean. It was a great way to begin the week even though as it progressed their minds grew dark and tainted with the spoils of the business. Having that brief break rekindled the light in their souls and allowed them to continue their work without having it drag them down with every body that they fell.

He found himself enjoying an after church cigarette while he waited for his brother. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky as the sun shined down on all of Boston's inhabitants. Connor entertained himself by people watching. There were so many interesting characters in the world. And they say that everyone is unique and different. He believed it as he watched a wide variety of people meander down the streets. Children were laughing and running, uptight businessmen in suits were rigidly walking while on the phone as if their current phone call was the most important one of their life. There were beautiful women, men with too many tattoos and even someone who looked like Danny DeVito across the street from him sneering at his coffee.

Before long Murphy made his debut into Boston's streets and lit a cigarette before glancing wordlessly at his brother. They both knew it was time to leave. Excitement began to course through his veins as they began their trip to Miami.


	3. Road to Midland

**Author's Notes: A special thanks to A posse ad esse and wolfchick11 for reviewing.**

**Warning: This chapter contains an Aristocrat joke, so if those offend you just skip over that paragraph. It's vulgar, so be wary. **

Chapter III: Road to Midland

The red glowing embers of the fat Cuban cigar stood out in the small business like office. The overweight balding man drummed his fingers on the desk while he watched the phone willing it to ring. He took a deep toke and slowly exhaled, blowing the smoke in to the face of a nearby subordinate. He was beginning to get agitated at the lack of contact and if he didn't hear anything soon he had no choice, but to assume the man was dead. His fingers began to twitch as he laid his hand on his gun. Patience was never his forte. Soon he was going to have to release all this nervous pent up energy. Luckily for him and everyone around him, the sharp cry of the phone came just in time.

"Speak."

"They're leaving town."

"Where are they going?"

"I don't know, but the dumbasses stopped by church before heading out. It was more than enough time to plant the tracker. "

"Good. Take the scopolamine and follow them."

"Done."

The man threw down the phone and leaned back into the chair. He was feeling significantly more relaxed than before. His plan had begun to roll into action and now it was only a matter of time before he could personally destroy the Saints; humiliating them as they had done to him and his family. No body fucks with Desi Adamo.

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They had been driving for hours. Murphy grew increasingly restless as he fidgeted with anything he could get his hands on. His inability to sit still had been growing on his brother's nerves making the last hour very uncomfortable. Unable to contain himself any longer Murphy let out a loud groan and turned to his brother.

"So a koala hops a flight to New York and while he's there he gets a hooker. They fuck and afterwards the hooker turns to the koala and say 'gimme my money.' Confused the koala asks what she's talking about. So the hooker breaks out a dictionary and looks up prostitute where it says: have sex, gets paid. The koala then takes the dictionary and looks up koala where it says: eats bush and leaves."

Connor let out a small chuckle at Murphy attempted joke. "Murph, that wasn't one of yer better ones."

"Yer s'pose to show me up. That's how the game works."

"I'm not playin'."

"Well what the fuck else are we suppose to do?"

"Fine. I might as well take ye out quickly. So this man goes to see his talent agent and he says 'boy, do I have this great new act for ye. It's a family act, so it starts off with my daughter runnin' out on stage twirlin' her baton. She strips off all her clothes and then bends over and spreads her ass apart. My son comes skateboardin' out and as he passes her he shoves the baton right up her asshole. So he strips down and she starts sucking him off. Then my wife comes out with this huge double dildo and shoves it in my daughter's pussy and then she gets on the other end of both the dildo and baton. So they're fuckin' each other and I come out with this huge stallion. This is where it gets real good. I start fuckin' the horse and my wife starts sucking him off while dp-ing herself and my daughter. And all the time she's deep throatin' my son. And right before it ends, my son turns around and takes a huge shit on my daughter.' The agent takes a moment to think about it and says 'What do you call your act?' And the man says "The Aristocrats."

"Ye can't start with a fuckin' Aristocrat joke! That's the end all be all of jokes!"

"Sure as hell shut you up."

"No, yer not gettin' off that easy! I'll play this game."

"I don't want to fuckin' play a game!"

Ignoring his brother Murphy launched into another Aristocrat joke full of incest, bestiality, and any other vulgarity that came to his mind. And he was colorful when it came to that area. Connor began to lighten up as he listened to his twin try to top his joke. They were soon laughing their asses off as they entered Virginia. A comfortable silence fell over them and Murphy found himself staring out the window once again. The commotion of the Boston's large population had long since faded away and was replaced by miles of pastureland as they rode through the countryside. Houses slowly began to spring up as they entered another nameless town. The closer they got to this town, Murphy and Connor began to notice a curious reoccurring theme. House, schools and businesses alike were proudly displaying Irish flags, shamrocks, leprechauns and any other stereotypical thing they could think of. Just as Murphy was about to voice his complaint, the answer to all their questions came to them in a form of a large banner waving carelessly in the wind.

Welcome to Midland's 23rd Annual Irish Festival!

"We should stop here for the night."

Murphy gave Connor a surprised look. "Why?"

"It's an Irish festival. We're Irish. We'll fit right in."

"What sense does it make to celebrate Ireland in the middle of fuckin' Virginia?"

"It doesn't, we'll be a novelty. We'll get all the fuzz we want."

"I don't wanna stop."

Connor vetoed Murphy's complaints by pulling into the nearest motel. Taking the keys with him, he hopped out and went to get them a room. Murphy sat in the car in a huff. He could hear the faux Irish music drifting down the streets. He didn't want to be there. These people knew nothing of Ireland. It was just a celebration of stereotypes. Connor soon came bouncing back to their car flinging open the door and grabbing their bags.

"Hurry up! We have time to enter the drinking contest!"

Murphy perked up at the idea of a drinking contest. He knew he and Connor could drink all these rednecks under the table. And while he was there, maybe he could educate these fools about the real Ireland.

His foul mood faded away as they walked the streets of Midland. The roads were lined with booths of every nature. Faux Irish merchandise, Celtic jewelry, homemade crafts and the ever present face painting booths enticed the people into the streets. Hundreds of people were laughing while emptying their wallets and their cares. Connor and Murphy weaved themselves through the crowd heading towards a large stage where a folk band was currently playing. As they finished, the band quickly dispersed and was replaced by lackies hauling out large tables and several pitchers of beer. This is where they wanted to be.

Connor politely pushed his way to the front, heading towards the man with the microphone. After conversing momentarily, he waved Murphy towards the stage. Noticing that a bar was closer than the stage, Murphy headed that way instead. Connor shrugged off his brother's antics and hopped on stage where other contestants were gathering. Several large pints were being set in front of everyone and he made sure they set an extra one for his brother. Murphy wasn't the type of person to pass up free booze.

The host causally walked to the front of the stage. He was an older man wearing dirty faded jeans and a flannel button up shirt. He looked as if he spent his entire life living in a small country town, but he seemed like he loved every minute. He turned to the crowd and began the opening ceremonies.

"Hey everybody! I'm Jimmy Flowers and it's finally time to drink! For those who don't know, there are three drinks in front of all contestants. First to finish wins this wonderful gift certificate to Jenny's for $25. Is y'all ready?"

"Wait!" Murphy's cries cut through the crowd as he made his way to the stage quickly. The contest was briefly suspended as everyone watched him head up on stage. He took his place next to Connor and set down a shot glass in front of each of them.

"We might as well do this right."

The antics caught the attention of the host and he made his way over to him. "What you 'bout to do?"

"It's an Irish Car Bomb. Ye drop the shot into the beer and chug it. This'll just make things more interestin'."

"That accent part of the festival, boy?"

"No, I'm actually from Ireland."

"Wonderful! You boys have a challenge here!" The host slapped Murphy on the back and headed towards the other side of the stage. "Three! Two! One! Drink!"

The twins dropped their shots into the mugs of beer and began chugging as fast as they could. After his first drink, Murphy gave Connor a sideways glance and was delighted to find himself slightly ahead. Finishing that one in a few large gulps, he began his third and final drink. With only a third of his beer left, he heard an empty glass being slammed down on the table. The crowd erupted in cheers. As he finished his final drink, he turned to find his brother smiling triumphantly at him. Within a minute all the contestants had finished and Jimmy Flowers was once again heading their way.

"Congratulations, boy! What's your name?"

"Connor McManus."

"You from Ireland too?"

"Aye, I am."

"Whoo boy! We got ourselves some authentic fellers here. You head over to Susan and she'll get you set up for your prize."

They both thanked Jimmy and headed in the direction the man pointed. They were soon flagged down by a bubbly older woman who gave them their gift certificate and pointed them to the restaurant. They promptly headed that way; both realizing that they last meal they ate consisted of crackers and red bull.

Jenny's was obviously a local place packed full of people. The wait staff and dining facility was colored green and was decorated with shamrocks. They were quickly greeted by a middle aged woman who grabbed several menus and turned to them with a large smile.

"Top o' the morning to you! Smoking or non?"

Dropping his accent, Murphy quickly responded. "Well I reckon we'll take smoking if y'all got a table open."

The woman smiled sweetly and indicated they should follow her. As soon as her back was turned Connor quickly smacked his brother on the back of his head and headed after her. When Murphy finally caught up to him, Connor was already seated and the hostess had disappeared.

"She fuckin' started it when that 'top o' the mornin' shit!"

"She was just being friendly, Murph."

"This town is single handedly trying to set Ireland back a hundred fuckin' years."

"And yet they gave us three pints and a free meal. Ye have a lot of fuckin' complain about."

"Anyone could have entered and won. How can this not piss ye off?"

"They're not meanin' for any of it to be offensive. Sure it's all stereotypes, but look at us, Murph. We are the epitome of Irish stereotypes. We drink like a fish, we smoke like a chimney, we fuck like rabbits, we curse like sailors, we're extremely catholic and we fight like Thai boxers."

"Fight like Thai boxers?"

"Ye can only have so many good metaphors in a sentence. So lighten up and enjoy our free meal. And afterwards we can go out and get shit faced."

Murphy dropped the subject when their food arrived. They thoroughly enjoyed their home-style meal. It had been a while since either of them had a good decent meal. Both of them were too lazy to cook. They usually ended up eating bar food or anything that delivered at obscure hours of the day. This food was obviously made by someone who cared; someone who put their lives into making the perfect dining masterpiece. It was the closet thing to home they had in years. They were stuffed and the after dinner cigarette was the icing on the cake.

There were always certain cigarettes during the day that were better than all the rest. The classic one is the after sex cigarette. And while that was good, Murphy always enjoyed the first cigarette of the morning. It was the best way to start the day. Connor, on the other hand, loved the after dinner cigarette. It was best after a great meal when you were too full to move out of your seat. It created a most satisfying feeling and always helped to create room for the after dinner drinks.

Connor and Murphy soon found themselves in a cozy bar. It was the type of bar they loved. Everyone knew each other and while the twins were strangers in this town, they had little trouble fitting in. They drank the night away. Smiling, laughing, and flirting as if all their troubles had been caged away in the city they left behind.

**Author Notes: Don't binge drink. Know your limits. And submitting reviews makes for happy authors. I apologize if there are a lot of errors in this chapter. Real life got in the way and I had little time to proofread. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Stranded

**Author's Notes: A super fantastic thank you to A posse ad esse, wolfchick11 and Laursidotes for reviewing.**

Chapter Four: Stranded

By early afternoon Connor and Murphy found themselves back on the road. It was a later start than either of them had hoped for, but they both strongly protested the shrill alarm earlier that morning. Having only driven eight hours they day before, they had sixteen more hours to go until they reached Miami. It was going to be a long day.

Hour after hour crawled by. Their eyes were fixated on the road, but were unseeing to the events around them. Miles seemed to stretch on as it felt like they were making little to no progress. With little else to do, Murphy began watching the clock like a vulture watching its prey waiting for it to die. He knew the exact time of every major event.

3:38 pm they entered North Carolina.

6:17 pm they entered South Carolina.

7:58 pm is when the trouble started.

It started small enough. Little wisps of smoke began to spout out from under the hood. The smoke soon began to bellow making it hard for Connor to see the road or the other drivers. He let out a loud aggravated cry and signaled to pull off the side of the road. As he was doing so he managed to clip the tail end of another car forcing them both to pull over.

"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" Connor's angry outburst startled Murphy. He threw his fist against the dashboard making the check engine light finally come on. Still unable to see the car he hit, he threw the door opened and flung himself out of the car. He slammed the car door shut with such a force that it created a ringing in Murphy's ears. Murphy heard Connor cursing strongly in Italian before he followed his brother out on to the highway's shoulder.

Fortunately for both of them their accident only created a small semi-minor dent in the bumper of the car. Unfortunately the car was a new 2007 black 328i BMW. Dealer stickers still attached. And like the car beside him, Connor was fuming. He silently clenched and unclenched his fists; an intense glare fixated on the driver's side door. Murphy felt sorry for whoever was about to exit the BMW. He had faced the wrath of Connor many times before and it always ended painfully.

The black door popped open and a large man stumbled out. He towered over Connor, standing 6'7'' and weighing almost 300 pounds. This man looked like he could have been a NFL linebacker wearing dark sunglasses and a suit. He took off his sunglasses and gave them both a dark glare.

"What the fuck is yer problem?"

"My problem? You're the faggot who rear ended me!"

"My car broke down! If ye were payin' any attention, ye'd move out the damn way like ye 'pose to!"

"What would you know? Go back to Scotland and get out of my country!"

"I'm fuckin' Irish, you Yankee asshole!"

"I could squash you like a bug."

"I'd like to see ye fuckin' try."

The man took a threatening step towards Connor. The Saint tensed in anticipation, but stood his ground. Behind him, Murphy prepared himself for whatever his brother decided to do. They all locked eyes waiting for the other to make the first move. The cars on the highway whizzed by dangerously close, sending little puffs of air with each pass. Several tense minutes rolled by before the man diverted his eyes from Connor's.

"I don't want to fucking get sued, so just give me your insurance information so I can fucking leave."

Connor cringed inwardly as he realized his mistake too late. They didn't have insurance. And they couldn't afford to involve the police. He let out a Russian curse before running his hand through his hair. Throwing a look back to his brother, he saw him chewing the skin around his thumb; a nervous habit he carried all his life. Connor took a few deep breaths before turning back to the suit.

"Maybe we can settle this without involvin' the insurance companies."

"Of course! You don't have insurance! That's the problem with you immigrants. You come here expecting to be real treated like real Americans, but you refuse to follow our laws! I'm calling the police."

"Wait! How much do you want?"

"What?" 

"To fix the dent. We can forget the police and insurance and settle this on our own."

"That dent is worth more than your car."

Murphy stepped forward reminding them both of his presence. "Well now it is. Look at it; it's still fuckin' smokin' after twenty minutes. I'm surprised it hasn't exploded."

Connor ignored his brother's comments and brought attention back to the matter at hand. "$500."

"It's a BMW."

"It's a small fuckin' dent."

"$700."

"$600"

"Deal."

"Murphy, pay the man."

Murphy rounded the car and popped open the truck. Riffling through one of the duffle bags, he counted out the money. He strolled back to the man and offered the money, which the suit violently snatched away and counted himself. "Can we have a ride to a gas station or somethin'?" The man scoffed at Murphy and turned on his heel, heading back to his car. He revved his engine several times before speeding off leaving them in a dust cloud.

"What a fuckin' douchebag. Ye should have thrown his ass into traffic, Con."

"Fuck this. I'm not fixin' this tonight. Let's get walkin', Murph. Hopefully there's an exit with a hotel close by."

Grabbing their essentials, they began their trek down the highway. The sunlight was quickly fading; their walk getting increasingly dangerous by the minute. They spied a sign ahead and graciously thanked God for it.

Exit 287 Camden 1 ¼ miles

---------------------------------

Camden, South Carolina wasn't a very large place, but it had a Best Western right off the exit. It was a historic town, where racial tension still ran high. It wasn't overtly shown of course. It was felt throughout the entire area. Daily interactions were rigidly done with high tension. Glares between races were common. If you watched the local news, you could see racially spurred crimes daily, though often under reported. It was something they obviously tried to hide from outsiders. They needed the tourist income.

So when Connor and Murphy strolled into the hotel, they were met with open arms and fake smiles. They quickly checked in and soon found themselves standing in the nicest room they've seen in a while. It appeared clean. They paint wasn't chipping off the walls, stains didn't litter the bed and floor and for once, they had plenty of hot water.

They threw themselves on to separate beds; the stresses of the day weighing heavily on each of them. That was the funny thing about driving – you never felt like you were doing much, yet it still left you drained by the end of the day. There wasn't anything left to do today. Tomorrow they would have their car towed here and with any luck they could fix it and set off to Miami once again. Maybe this time, they'd actually make it.


	5. A Trout in the Hand

**Author's Notes: A grand thank you to A posse ad esse, wolfchick11, and L.R. Meriadoc for reviewing.**

**I have rewritten this chapter three times trying to get it right. For some reason I just can't get it the way it right in my mind, but this is the best one I've come up with, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.**

**And I apologize for the extreme lateness. Real life has just been owning me lately.**

Chapter Five: A Trout in the Hand is Worth a Ban

For once the day started early for Connor and Murphy. They were both lounging outside smoking their ever present cigarettes. The obnoxious beep of the tow truck sliced through the morning air as it backed their broken car into position. The driver of the truck looked like a stereotype given their current location. He was tall and thin wearing a camouflaged hat with unruly brown hair sticking out of the sides. His white shirt and jeans were dirty with grease and he had a very prominent confederate flag as a belt buckle. He wore a raggedy nametag with Jeff written in large letters. But as stereotypical as he appeared, he did his job effectively, quickly unhooking their car from his.

Connor immediately popped the hood and began poking around looking for the problem. Murphy casually slide into the driver's seat; fully trusting his current mechanic.

"Try to start it."

Murphy turned the key. The car tried to start, turning over, but failing to catch. They both knew what that meant. They needed a new starter. Connor cursed when he found a hole in one of the lines causing it to spill oil all over the engine. That at least explains the smoke. For as long as he could remember car problems were always compounded and expensive. Mechanics always tried to charge out of the ass claiming to fix your car only to have it break down a month later. Connor finally had enough of it and learned to repair most his car problems.

Unfortunately he couldn't repair a starter on his own. They were going to have to take it to a real mechanic. Murphy let out a loud curse at the matter and threw his fist against the door. At this rate, they were never going to make it to Miami.

Hours later they found themselves standing outside the garage of the same mechanic that towed them earlier. The second time the mechanic saw them; he had this smug I-told-you-so look on his face. Murphy had a strong desire to smack the man in the back of his redneck head. Sadly though, he was the only open mechanic in town, so Murphy took out his frustrations on his own lungs.

To maintain their sanity while Jeff claimed to fix their car, they decided to explore the town of Camden. The streets were like many towns. Family owned stores and restaurants were integrated with the mainstream paraphernalia of a western culture. Nothing unusual or interesting stood out, expect perhaps them. It seemed that anywhere they went outside of Boston's Irish district; they attracted the attention of the locals. Though neither of them were sure why.

They both thought themselves to be fairly ordinary looking. They didn't dye their hair unusual colors or wear scandalous clothing. And sure, they had their fair share of tattoos, but who didn't sport any these days? Neither of them claimed to be strikingly handsome on most days (but if you asked them after a boast of confidence due to excess alcohol intake, they'd both claim otherwise). The twins thought they were average people at first glance. It was only after you met them do you realize otherwise. And by then it was too late to escape. Nevertheless they were able to ignore the constant stares and focus on finding something to entertain them in this podunk town.

--------------------------------------------------------- 

It was an hour and a half later before Jeff was able to pop the hood of the MacManus car and start work. He had easily replaced the oil line and had already begun replacing the starter when an unusual object caught his attention. It seemed the MacManus car had an extra part. There was a black box attached to the underside of the car beside the wheel. As inconspicuous as it was, Jeff had been a mechanic for over twenty years and tended to notice the out of ordinary.

After probing the box, he found that it was attached by magnets. Jeff knew this trick. It was common among small time drug dealers. They stored their stashes in magnetic boxes attached to the inside of cars, so if they were pulled by cops they were less likely to get caught. The mechanic's own stash had been quickly dwindling and he had little problem with stealing drugs from these outsiders. He pried open the box and was startled by its contents.

It did not contain pot, pills or coke, but was a labyrinth of twisted wires. Obviously homemade, it looked like something straight out of the movies. It had no distinguishing features that revealed its true purpose, so Jeff's mind went straight to the obvious answer. It was a bomb. It was set to explode at any moment. And he was going to die.

He ran out on to the streets looking for the two men whose car was set to explode, but they were no where in sight. His mind began racing as he found himself drifting back to the garage. He turned a corner to call the police, but froze before he could reach his destination. Jeff was facing the business end of a gun.

His focus was solely on the barrel of the gun. He was completely oblivious to everything around him, including who his killer was. Second slowly ticked by. In his last moment of clarity he realized that your life does not flash before your eyes before you die.   
It was quite the opposite. Speeding through his mind were regrets. The cruise he never went on, the second language he never learned, the fight that was never resolved between him and his son. It didn't feel like his time to die.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The MacManus brothers found themselves standing at the entrance of a place they never thought they'd visit. The South Carolina Wildlife Preserve and Fish Hatchery. The establishment consisted of a large stone building surrounded by endless acres of lush green forests. To their right was the fish hatchery, a fenced in concrete area with several large water filled trenches. Large yellow school buses lined the parking lot and school children of varying ages ran around, squealing with delight form being out of traditional school for the day. A mixed tour group of children and adults were gathering by the hatchery and lost to their new settings the brother wandered towards them and attempted to fit in.

"Welcome y'all to our trout hatchery. Now these are very important in maintaining the trout populations…"

The tour guide continued her lecture as she led the group into the hatchery. Inside the concrete enclosure were four water filled trenches that contained trout in various stages of life. Each container was filled to capacity. Trout were swimming on top of each other and flopping in and out of the water. It was a fisherman's wet dream.

The twins found themselves standing next to a group of rowdy teenaged boys. They were taunting each other and pretending to shove one another into the water. These boys struck a chord with Murphy. They reminded him of himself as a troublemaking teen. A mischievous smile played upon his lips as he turned to his brother.

"Hey Con, I dare ye to try to snag one of those fish."

"What do I win?"

"I'll drive the rest of the way."

"Like hell ye will! Ye've gotten in three car wrecks in one week!"

"It's my personal record."

"I want ye Rambo knife."

"What? Ye don't even like it!"

"Aye, but it's come in handy."

"More than yer fuckin' rope."

"That rope has saved our asses on several occasions."

"If I win, I don't have to carry yer stupid fuckin' rope around anymor'."

Connor and Murphy shook hands in agreement. The rowdy teens had gone silent after taking interest in the bet. They stood watching Connor excitedly. He kneeled down beside the trench. There were hundreds of fish in there. They all swam against the current with great conformity. Connor leaned over the water casting his shadow upon them. The fish scattered away as best they could. He sat back and took a minute to ponder his approach. As he did so he noticed the fish swimming back to where his shadow once stood. The fish appeared to be scared of his shadow. As soon as the thought popped into his head, Connor jumped up and bolted to the other side. This time as he leaned towards the fish, his shadow grew on the opposite side.

He pushed up the sleeve of his shirt and eyed his target. He chose one arbitrarily. The fish he chose had several large spots on his head and Connor liked him because it made him look like he had three eyes. He stretched out his arm and barely hovered over the water. Below his hand, the fish slowly moved his body while huddled in the mass. Connor thrust his hand in the water and firmly gripped the first slimy object he felt.

As he pulled it out of the water, the fish began to struggle with all its might. Connor felt it slip through his grip and before he knew it, the fish was airborne. It landed on the ground with a soft squish.

Cheers erupted from the teenaged crowd drawing the attention of other tourists. An angry looking security guard began stalking towards him. Connor nudged the fish back into the water and stood to face a very angry adult crowd. The security guard shoved his way through the crowd and stood toe to toe with Connor. Connor had a strong feeling of déjà vu at this moment. He had been in this situation hundreds of time throughout his life. And the majority of them started with a dare from Murphy.

"Sir, are you illiterate?"

"What? No, I can read."

"Because there is a sign directly in front of you saying that you are not allowed to touch the fish. So for you to so deliberately ignore it means you must either be illiterate or stupid. Since you said you are not illiterate, you must be stupid. Follow me sir, we need to have an educational conversation."

The security guard firmly gripped Connor's arm and dragged him towards the building. Connor looked back to find Murphy laughing hysterically while a crowd of onlookers watched from behind him. He wasn't terribly worried about what was about to happen with the rent-a-cop. Worse thing was that the security guard could call the real cops, but he doubted that would happen. It wasn't like he killed the fish or anything.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Murphy watched his brother being dragged into the stone cased building. The crowd dispersed shortly after, but he stayed and watched the door for several minutes wondering how long it was going to take. He was never good at entertaining himself. He was bored with the fish hatchery and had little desire to explore the wildlife preserve. He left the hatchery and tapped out a cigarette. Murphy glanced around and noticed the parking lot had cleared out. He picked up an abandoned newspaper and flipped to the comic section. He never understood the need for serious comics. Who wants to wake up in the morning and read some drama bullshit? If Murphy was editor, all comics would involve talking dogs and cats.

"Oi, I take ye somewhere educational an' as soon as I'm gone, ye sit on yer ass and read comics."

Murphy glanced behind him to see Connor now being escorted by two security guards. The guard from earlier roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him to the exit. Murphy quickly rose to his feet and followed him. When they arrived at the entrance, the guard shoved Connor forward and crossed his arms. Before departing, Connor gave them a few choice words in a variety of languages.

"What the fuck happened in there?"

"Murph, the South Carolina Wildlife Preserve and Fish Hatchery has officially banned me for life."

Murphy exploded with laughter nearly keeling over in the middle of the sidewalk. Connor joined his brother shortly after. Regardless of the drama that seemed to follow them everywhere, their walk back to the mechanic's garage was in high spirits.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Jeff slammed the hood of the black car shut. He wiped his greasy hands on his jeans and turned around to face the man he had almost forgotten was there. The man still firmly held the gun in his hand and his eyes were fixated on Jeff. The man wore loose clothing, but Jeff could see bandages sticking out from underneath. Around his collar you could see disfigured flesh. It had a stiff look to it and was bright red with blackened edges. Whatever disfigured this man happened recently. He was fairly short in height and had a thinning ring of black hair. His eyes were cold and lacking any feeling in them. He looked like a man with a mission and poor Jeff had just gotten in the way. He hastily wrote a receipt and stuffed it in the glove box. He cursed the poor souls who had brought trouble into his neck of the woods.

The man with the gun stiffly walked back to his own car. As he sat down pain flared throughout his body. He was forced to close his eyes for a moment hoping to ebb the pain. Too soon though, he was forced to open them and deal with what had to be done. He turned on a small screen located above the radio. Immediately the streets of Camden flashed onto the screen. His blue positioning dot blinked on shortly after. He let out a grim smile with the red dot of his target flashed on as well. He turned on his engine and parked across the street. He still had a perfect view of the mechanic and his prey. He settled back into his seat and took a vicodin. Since he was working he could only take one, but that made the pain almost tolerable. He hoped he wouldn't have to wait long before the Irish bastards showed back up. He was growing tired of this cat and mouse game and he was ready to pounce. Luck was on his side that day as the chain smoking men strolled into his reset trap.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Connor turned the key and was thrilled to have the car spring to life. He and Murphy were both ecstatic that they could leave this town. They had found the main highway easily enough and had every intention of driving through the night. Neither of them could handle another day in this car. Murphy opened a crumpled pack of Malboros to fish himself out another cigarette, but was horrified to discover what lay inside. Nothing. The pack was completely empty.

"Hey Con, do ye have any cigs on ye?"

"No, I'm completely tapped out."

"Fuckin' 'eh. There's got to be one around here somewhere."

Murphy began scouring the car in search of his prized treasure. He shoved his hand into every corner looking. He found pens, pennies and old french fries, but not a single thing to smoke. In a final attempt, he threw open the glove box and pulled its entire contents out. And there in the corner was a lone cigarette severed in half. Murphy lit it, hungrily sucking nearly half of it before passing it to his brother. As he went to shove everything back inside the dashboard, a curious note caught his eyes. It was the receipt from the Camden mechanic and written in large bold letters under his name was such a startling sentence that it made Murphy forget about his craving.

"Someone is going to kill you."


	6. A Dog Day Afternoon

**Author's Notes: Yes, I know it's been a very very very long time between updates. I met a boy and I got caught up with that for a while, but he's gone. And then I got caught up with the holidays, but now they are over. And after that I don't really have an excuse. But I'm back and hopefully I'll get back onto a more regular updating schedule.**

**And a grand thank you goes out to wolfchick11, Small-Fri, and heartfallen for reviewing.**

**Your reviews fed my soul. **

Chapter VI: A Dog Day Afternoon

Fredo adjusted himself and popped another vicodin. All this driving was starting to wear on him. The seatbelt chaffed against his forming scars and the constant pain was wearing him down. But he at least had visual site of his target. With any luck, this trip would be over soon and he would be recuperating in luxury back in Boston. He felt his eyes slip out of focus and his mind go blank as the drug took over his body. He wasn't sure how long he was in this state, but the only thing that jarred him back into reality was the shrill cry of his phone. He let out several grunts as he shifted his weight to reach the small cellular. "What?"

"You should not speak to your older brother that way, Fredo."

"You shouldn't send someone of my rank on a fucking goose chase."

"You wanted to go, Fredo. This wasn't business."

"Desi, how's Michael?"

"Completely blind. The Irishman destroyed his retinas. Though I guess we're lucky there was no further damage done. All Michael does is sit in his room and stare at the wall."

"How is Cary taking it?"

"She tried to take the kids and leave him, but I wouldn't let her."

"She knew what she was getting into when she married into the family."

"Fredo, you need to finish this tonight. My consigliere informed me that Don Cicchio is trying to move into Boston's gambling district. I don't want to start another war, so we have to end this tomorrow. We're going to take out Luca."

"Alright, Desi. I'll hit them tonight and be back in the morning."

Fredo tossed the phone into the passenger seat and glanced at his tracker to find his target only a mile ahead of him. He shifted gears and pressed down harder on the gas pedal. Hopefully he could take them out without even leaving his car.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Since the ominous not left by the mechanic, the MacManus brothers had slipped into stealth mode. Connor refused to stop for fear of an unexpected encounter. It was not that he was unconfident in his and his brother's skills, but battles were more easily won when they were the ones making the surprises. He intently watched the cars around them paying close attention to how long they were near them.

Murphy, on the other hand, was finding it quite difficult to concentrate. He had half a cigarette four hours ago and was already beginning to feel the effects of withdrawal. He was unbelievably restless and the confinement of the car was driving him up the wall. His left leg was in perpetual motion and he was getting increasingly agitated with every little thing.

"Connor, we have to stop."

Connor shook his head and opened his mouth to voice his protest. Before he was could get a syllable in edgewise, their car abruptly jerked to the side smashing Murphy's head against the window. Connor hit the brakes and struggled to get the car back into his control. Once the car stopped swerving, he jerked his head to the left meeting the cold dark eyes of their attacker. Fredo only paused for a moment before sharply pulling the wheel going after the car once again. Connor slammed on the brakes to avoid the impact, but the tail end of Fredo's car clipped their front bumper.

Attempting to avoid the innocent cars on the highway, Connor sped onto the shoulder riding the obnoxious waves that lined the road. Their car reached over eighty miles per hour, but to no avail as the white car still loomed behind them. Murphy hopped into the backseat and shoved his hand under the seat revealing one of the guns they had hidden in their ride. He began rolling down the window, but as it progressed it slowed and eventually stopped.

"Fuckin' piece o' junk! Con, when we get out of this, we're getting a car with electric fuckin' windows."

Murphy dropped to his back and swiftly kicked out the window sending glass flying behind them. He popped his arm out and began firing rounds at the car. Fredo's windshield began to crack as the first bullets struck. He swerved back onto the highway causing cars around to slam on their breaks and into each other. Downshifting, Fredo increased his speed becoming parallel with his victim's car. He pulled out a gun of his own and began firing at Connor, who promptly attempted to duck and drive at the same time. The MacManus car swerved dangerously.

Murphy let out a loud throaty yell as he continued his assault. Frustrated that he was unable to discourage their attacker, he turned his attention elsewhere taking careful aim at the front tire. A smirk graced his face as he pulled the trigger flattening the tire within seconds. But his victory was short lived when Fredo's car skidded towards them recklessly slamming into their vehicle. Murphy was thrown backwards once again slamming his head in to the car's interior. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes as his world faded into black. Connor struggled to keep the car on the highway shoulder, but the assault from Fredo's car was pushing them off and straight into the wooded area.

The trees came closer at a frightening pace and Connor slammed on the breaks and prayed that he could stop the car in time. The brakes locked up, stilling the tires, but not the car. The tires on their car had such little tread on them that they just seemed to glide over the thick layer of leaves and pine straw. Their car jerked forward as the maniac behind them continued his attack, thrusting his car forward propelling them into the woods. Connor dodged most of the trees with such precision only obtained from many nights playing xbox games. But the forest grew denser scraping deep gashes into the car's paint and windows. He knew that it was only a matter of time before they hit a mighty pine tree with full force.

Fredo once again rammed his car into the Irish brother's vehicle. He had complete disregard for his own life. His world was painted red. The anger that had been bottled up for days was coming out of him like a typhoon. The pedal was completely flat against the floor mat and his car was feverishly pushing the other car downhill, willing the black car to crash and burn.

Connor released a hopeful sigh as he saw the forest edge. He couldn't believe that he had almost successfully made it through with their lives. He still had his foot planted firmly on the brake pedal and risked a glance behind him to see the fat Italian continued to ride their asses. He could only think of one option, so he quickly switched into gear and floored it. Connor quickly picked up speed. It took only seconds before the cars parted. He risked a glance behind him once again, taking his eyes off the path for only a moment. But a heartbeat is more than enough time for life changing events to occur.

The right front tire careened into a large boulder sending the car flying on to its side. Connor watched in horror as the car skidded out of the forested area. Their situation took a sharp turn for the worse as a sudden hill manifested into view that revealed a hidden lake at the bottom. The black car began to slide down the hill sharply increasing speed with every passing moment. It hit the water's surface with such force that it immediately deployed the airbags. Connor was thrust forward into the airbag causing a sharp pain to radiate from his head and throughout his body. A dark haze began to edge around his eyes and his mind began to cloud with little comprehension of the current events.

The frigid water began to pour in. At first it only began to seep through the cracks, but as the car plummeted downward, the broken window from the fight earlier allowed the water to rush in. Murphy was sprawled out in the backseat of the car and was dimly aware of the water creeping up his calf. He let out an involuntary shiver and attempted to swat the peculiar feeling away from his legs. A wet hand returned to his chest causing too much confusion for his hazy mind to comprehend. He cracked his bleary eyes open and stared at the roof of the car with wonder. Surrounding him, he could hear a loud crashing noise, but was unable to place the sound. His legs were freezing and he began to shiver. He rubbed his hand over his face and struggled to sit up. Alarm shot through his body as the previous events began to race back to him. He felt his heartbeat begin to pound and his breaths began to come in short rasps. Murphy threw himself into the front seat fighting the already waist high water. He found Connor slumped to the side, his face half covered in blood from an open head wound. Murphy grabbed the seatbelt and followed it down into the water searching for the buckle.

"Connor! Wake the fuck up! I don't think I can doggy paddle yer ass back to shore."

Murphy ripped the seatbelt off his brother and gave him a rough slap across the face. Connor groaned in protest, rolling his head to the side. Murphy knew he couldn't wait for Connor to fully understand their current predicament. He roughly grabbed Connor by the shoulders and began to pull him to the open window. The car was already half sunk and their only escape was completely submerged. Murphy raised his eyes to the heaven and prayed for the best before covering Connor nose and mouth and diving under.

As the car descended sediments disturbed the water painted it a deep brown color. Murphy struggled to find the open window. He held Connor tightly against his chest as he desperately searched. He blindly felt the door handle and immediately jutted his hand upwards for the window, but his stomach plummeted as he felt the lake's bottom instead of the open water he had hoped for. Their car had successfully landed on the bottom of the lake, but unfortunately their only open escape was impassable.

Panic coursed through his veins as he shoved himself and his brother back into the front hoping to find a pocket of air left. As difficult as their situations was, God's light still blessed them leaving the twins a tiny pocket of air in the far corner, just large enough for Murphy to poked his head through. He hoisted his brother up out of the water allowing him to breathe as well. Connor sputtered and coughed as he regained his normal breathing pattern.

"Holy shit!"

"Are ye ok?"

"We're in a fucking pond!"

"We're trapped."

"Have ye tried rollin' down the window?"

"It won't work."

"Especially if ye don't even fuckin' try."

"I saw it on Mythbusters."

"What the hell are ye talkin' about?"

"Mythbusters. I'll have ye know it's a very reliable tv show. The pressure is too great, we can't break the window and we can't open the door."

"What yer master plan then?"

Murphy took a moment to calm down and survey their situation. Now that he knew that Connor was ok, he could think more clearly. He scanned the car and realized that they found themselves in quite a pickle. The car was almost fully submerged on its side, though it was not totally on its side. The front left part of the car was the only part not underwater. There was a six inch section of the windshield that allowed the boys to pear out at their surroundings. Their setting was dim. Murphy could see no roads around them. All he could see were acres of trees. There was little hope for anyone stumbling upon them. Except for the fat Italian that was chasing them. Murphy vaguely wondered if he ended up in the lake as well.

"I've fuckin' got it!"

Murphy abruptly dove back down into the water. He resurfaced holding the gun that he had been previously using.

"Murph, ye can't shoot it out."

"No shit Sherlock. I ain't gonna shoot it."

Using the gun, Murphy began to pound on the exposed piece of glass with all his might. After several blunt swings the window began to crack and eventually crumbled into the water. After numerous minutes of chipping away at the glass, they had finally made a hole large enough for them to escape. The twins carefully pushed themselves through the opening and swam towards the shore.

Connor and Murphy collapsed into the dirt and laid staring up into the sky. It was a gorgeous day. Few clouds were overhead. They both took a moment to collect their thoughts and to restore their bodies back to normal. Their heart rates and breathing slowed. Neither of them spoke, but they had their arms touching the other. It was reassuring to know that their other half was still there and alive.

Today was a fiasco. And they had yet another close encounter with death.

But as usual, they will pick themselves up and fight back.

**-------------------------------------------**

**Author's Note again: So what did you honestly think of it? I know car chases are awesome to see and do in real life, but I wasn't sure how fun they are to read about. So please review and tell me if you like it or not. **


	7. Apex

**Author's Note: So I guess I went AWOL again. _ So sorry. I met a Russian. He was cute, he was fun, he was sooo very very Russian, which was soooo very very hot. But things are over now, alas. On the plus side, I did learn a lot about the Russian culture and language. Too bad we're dealing with Italians. **

**It's actually very sad how long this has taken me, but hopefully I'm on a roll again. To be honest I finished this story at work today. But regardless, enjoy!**

Chapter VII: Apex

Murphy wasn't sure how long they had been lying by the lake. He had long since phased out as he and Connor watched the cloud drift by. He was tired. His entire body hurt. And he desperately needed a cigarette and a vacation. But there were several problems keeping him from solving any of the above mentioned problems. Murphy rolled his head to the side to spy his twin, which wore a perplexed look upon his face.

"What?"

"We should probably look for that guy who was chasin' us, but I doubt he'll be a problem anymore. Ye think the fuckin' cops would have shown up by now too. Someone had to have seen two cars fly off the road leavin' a path of destruction behind 'em."

"Aye, we should probably leave then. They'll ask questions and I don't want to be fuckin' bothered."

Murphy rolled to side and hoisted himself up with a load groan. After a massive car wreck, resting on the rocks probably wasn't the best of ideas. They should really check in to a hotel with a Jacuzzi and a bar. They both began the trek back to the road. The damage their car had done to the wooded area was undeniable. They had managed to take out any living object that was unfortunate enough to be in the path, but it left a clear view of the white car that had been after them.

As they approached the car, the saw the bloodied fat man slumped over the steering wheel. Connor pried the door open and laid two fingers on the man's neck. He was dead. He couldn't honestly say that he felt bad about that. He grunted as he pulled the man back in hopes that he could identify his attacker, but no one came to mind. Behind him though, he heard Murphy muttered a curse.

"Murph, who is he?"

"He's one of those fat fucks from the bar before we left!"

"Ye go out by yerself one night and managed to piss someone off enough to track yer ass down and try to kill ye? What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't fuckin' _**do**_anything! They were trying to rob the place. I just stopped it from happenin'."

Connor just stared blankly in response. He obviously didn't believe him. Murphy's thumb immediately went to his mouth and he began to chew the skin around the nail. Connor could be most intimidating when he was silent.

"…I also kinda set him on fire and possibly blinded his friend…"

"Christ Murph! Don't you fuckin' think before you do anythin'? As if we didn't have enough trouble already!"

"I didn't fuckin' know that they would try to kill us!"

"What the hell did ye think would happen? Ye fuckin' blinded someone! Don't ye think that someone would fuckin' care about that?"

Murphy diverted his eyes from Connor's. He hadn't thought about the repercussions at the time. Why did everyone he meets seem to be in some kind of mob? They really had terrible luck sometimes. They say that bad luck comes in threes. First he managed to piss off yet another mob. Second the mob is trying to kill them now. And third they had managed to destroy their car. So their bad luck streak should finally be over. Or should it, he wondered. All their bad luck was connected back to a single event. He fleetingly wondered if the bad events had to be independent of each other. If that was true, they were in for one hell of a week. Murphy raised his eyes back to Connor and noticed him gingerly holding his head. He had forgotten about his twin's head wound. He had forgotten about his injuries as well. They needed to get somewhere safe quickly.

"Let's fuckin' take care of this and get the hell out of here."

Connor popped the trunk and wandered back to inspect the contents. They were lucky that the Italian had a small arsenal back there. They could at least restock a few of their items. He grabbed a duffle bag and began shoveling guns into it. Meanwhile Murphy was inspecting the front of the car. He dug out the man's license. Fredo Adamo. The name meant nothing to him. He shoved the ID back into the wallet and placed it on the seat. Looking around he grabbed the man's gun, phone and cigars before ducking out of the car. He shoved the contents into Connor's duffle, who promptly headed towards the road. Murphy started to follow, but stopped as he remembered the ritual that he couldn't leave without. He ducked back into the car looking for the two shiny objects. Who the fuck doesn't have pennies in their car? He sighed and grabbed the two closest thing he could. A quarter and a dime. He carefully placed each coin over the man's eyes and stared at the man a moment longer. The two disproportionate silver objects didn't have the same affect as the pennies. Murphy bowed his head and said a quick parting prayer before scurrying off to find his other half.

The walked several yards before the flashing blue and red lights forced them to take another direction. To avoid the police, they were forced to wander the forest by the woods for about an hour in hopes that they would be far enough away to avoid suspicion. They thanked their lucky stars when the finally saw a motel, but Connor shook his head and pulled Murphy further down the road. He finally stopped in front of a Hilton hotel. Murphy gave his brother a funny look. They weren't the type that need luxury, but after the day that they had, Murphy wasn't about to protest his brother's choice.

"We look like shit. We can't just walk in there and get a room."

"Aye, but I took some supplies from the Italian."

Connor strolled to the side of the building and opened the dead man's duffle bag. Inside Murphy saw several weapons and a small stack of money. It wasn't even a third of what they had lost. Connor shrugged off his dirtied wet t-shirt and pulled a striped polo on. It was three sizes too big for him, but it was free of blood. He pulled a Yankee's baseball cap to complete his sexy attire. Murphy would have laughed at the site if he wasn't so sure he had bruised his ribs.

"Stay here."

Murphy leaned against the brick wall and pulled out the cigar he had swiped earlier. He was lucky enough to find a pack of matches in the bag. He slowly inhaled the sweet smoke of the Cuban and let it linger in his lungs. His eyes slipped shut as he exhaled. He heard the door to the emergency exit open, but he paid no attention to it. He'd just get the evil eye from the guests here. He knew that they would think that he didn't belong here. He also knew that he looked like he had just robbed a convenience store. It would just be an awkward moment that he wanted to avoid. He listened for several seconds waiting for the door to close, but whomever had opened it was hell bent on leaving. Curiosity getting the best of him, Murphy slide his eyes to the door only to spy Connor motioning him over.

They took the stairway up to their room in hopes to avoid the majority of the guests. Eight flights later and three hallways later, they had finally made it to the room. Before the door could fully close, they had both collapsed onto the bed, their eyes already shut.

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When Connor finally cracked his eyes open, he was taken aback by how blurry the room surrounding him was. He couldn't' seem to focus on any one object. He was in pain. He had an intense migraine and a night of awkward sleeping left his back and arms tense and knotted. He rolled onto his back and tried to focus on the ceiling. He couldn't tell if the ceiling had a popcorn effect to it or he was seeing black dots. Throwing a quick glance at Murphy didn't seem to help anything. The room continued to spin once his head had stopped moving. He let out an involuntary moan and closed his eyes, hoping to gain relief once again.

It seemed that they were in worse shape than he had thought.

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Fire shot through Desi soul. He threw his phone against the wall, barely missing his wife, Caroline's head. She flinched as she felt the shattered plastic fall upon her.

"Where is my consigliere?"

"He is dealing with the Don Cicchio on the south side."

"Bring him to me."

"I do not work for you, Fredo. I am not one of your dogs here solely to do you bidding. If you want to speak to him, then you go call him."

Desi stalked up to Caroline, his eyes blackened from hate. "Caroline, I do love you, but if you ever speak to me in such a manner again, I will…"

"You'll what? What will you do, Desi? Have me killed? You've taken so much of my life away that I would welcome the escape!"

Desi's hand shot out from beside him and latched on to her neck. He threw her against the wall with such force that the picture hangings shook. "Killing you would be too good for you, but if you cared for either of your children, you will do what I tell you."

"You can't touch them! Who would take over your business when you dead?"

"Caroline, my love, we are both still young and you will bare me many more children."

Desi released his grip on her throat, causing her to sink to the ground with grief. "Call my consigliere and tell him to meet me in the east lounge. There are things we need to talk about before I go kill the Irishmen myself."

"I hope they kill you just like they've killed Fredo!"

"For your sake, my love, I do too."

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Desi stood by the window in the east lounge. He held an untouched glass of cognac. His unfocused eyes stared out the window. He was numb. All the trials of his business had begun to weigh heavily upon him. His territory was being threatened, he could trust no one, not even his own wife, one of his brothers was dead and the other was blinded and depressed. It was only a matter of time before he took his own life.

Desi knew that he was at the apex of this life. He had to get out after killing the Irishmen. The greed was getting out of hand for both him and his followers. He needed to figure out a way for him to die peacefully out on an island somewhere, instead of being shot by someone he thought he could trust. Unfortunately he had no one to pass the business on to. He had to wait until his oldest son to mature enough to take over, like he had done with his father. That would at least be another ten or fifteen years. He couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

"Desi, this is a bad time to leave."

"I cannot let them live after what they have done to my family."

"Leaving would be a sign of weakness to Don Cicchio. He'll take that as your blessing to move in."

"Don Cicchio is smarter than that. He knows that I will give him no blessing."

"Be that as it may, it would be the best time to take over. Your feud with the two Irishmen can wait until afterwards."

"I'm tired. Maybe this will be a suicide mission and if it is, my consigliere, you will take over. I trust you and give you my authority on all matters while I'm away."

Desi brushed by his consigliere, who held a look of shock on his face. He had aged dramatically while working with his family and Desi regretted the stress that it caused him, but he had nothing left to live for and he was more than willing to sacrifice his life to avenge his brothers.


	8. Housekeeping

**Author's Notes: I am such a sad panda right now. I wrote this chapter and it was going quite well and I only had two more scenes left to write. They say to save often in case of your computer crashing or the power going out; well I do save quite often actually, but only to one file. The last time I went to save the file got corrupted and I lost it all. It turned in to a series of boxing that just taunted me with various sentences that I wrote sticking out. Oi, it was painful. I'm still in mourning. ::sigh::**

**Anyway, what I was saying in my author's notes that you didn't get to read, the last chapter bugs me because it seemed AU. I apologize if it was. I guess I'm going to watch the movie again so I'll get back into that mindset. **

**Now that I'm back to writing, I'm going to finish this story and hopefully not wait a year between chapters. So let's go!**

Chapter VIII: Housekeeping

Connor awoke with a start to a forceful thudding at the door. It took only seconds before pain assaulted him with such a force that it made his eyes darken and go unfocused. A quite moan escaped his lips as the pounding started again.

Connor gathered his strength and began the daunting task of answering the door. He firmly planted both his feet on the floor and slowly rose to standing. What seemed to be a drastic change in altitude caused his head to feel like it was imploding creating black dots that danced in front of his eyes. He stumbled as he started to walk and used everything he could get his hands on as support.

He blinked his bleary eyes and tried to focus through the peephole at the offender who so desperately needed his attention. No one was there. He cursed under his breathe. It took so much effort to answer the damn door and no one was even there. As he turned to leave the thudding began again.

Connor cautiously cracked open the door. Standing there was a tiny Asian woman. She was pudgy and couldn't have been more than five feet tall. She had hard deep wrinkles that covered her face, but her eyes spoke of kindness. She had her arms crossed in fit of determination that was comical given her stature.

"Oh honey, you look terrible!"

Connor blinked. Had this tiny woman really been pounding on his door for five minutes?" "Can I help ye?"

"Oh! Housekeeping."

"No, thank ye."

"No, housekeeping. You let me in, honey."

"Can ye come back later this afternoon? Tomorrow would work even better."

"Ok, honey, I tell you what I do. I come back in ten minute. You go order you breakfast and get some fruit, not just meat and pancake. I know you American men, you don't eat no fruit. And shower. You smell like monkey."

Connor couldn't help the smile that graced his face. This woman had more balls than he expected.

"Shower. Fruit. I be back in ten minute, honey."

The Asian woman waddled down the hall and began pounding on the next door. Connor pitied anyone who would dare cross that woman. He gently closed the door and stumbled back towards the phone. As juvenile as it seemed, it couldn't break his promise to the elderly woman. A sense of guilt crept over him if he didn't order his breakfast, with fruit, and shower. He quickly called room service and ordered both him and Murphy a healthy breakfast.

He peeled away his dirty clothes and soon found himself nestled in a warm, steamy shower. He was surprised to find that he had caked blood dried across his forehead. He watched the red substance slowly melt away and swirl down the drain. It was somewhat mesmerizing. The knots in the back and neck were slowly releasing. Connor once again found himself feeling guilty about potentially missing the elderly woman, so he soon stumbled out of the shower and back into the room.

Connor found himself standing in front of his twin, who looked absolutely terrible. The bruising around his neck had begun to fade, but still left angry yellow marks. He also sported a bloodied forehead, but what concern him the most was Murphy's ragged breathing. His breathes came in shallow spurts and he seem to shutter with each one. He was obviously more injured than Connor had expected. Connor sat beside and roughly shaking his shoulder. "Murph, wake up!"

A groggy rumbling noise emitted from the sleeping Irishman. Murphy slowly cracked his eyes open and stared unseeing at the room. He let out a wide mouthed yawn and attempted to stretch his body out before pain began to sear throughout his chest. Stopping mid-stretch, he let out a loud curse before curling back into himself. "Am I dead?"

"…No."

"I feel dead."

"Ye look dead too."

Murphy slowly lifted his shirt up revealing his blackened side. The bruises cover almost half of his chest, but were concentrated on his right side. Murphy probed them and let out another hiss in response. "They're broken."

Before Connor was able to respond, the thudding of the door started again. Connor hopped up and strolled towards the door opening it widely. The tiny Asian woman came in pushing the tray of food ahead of her. "You such good boy! You listen to Mama He. You get fruit!"

The pudgy housekeeper turned to face Murphy. "Oh honey, you no eat. You shower. You look just like other one this morning."

Murphy stared blankly at this intruder in his room. "What?"

"You shower, you smelly dog. Get up right now! No one like smelly ugly man! You feel much better. Mama He promise."

Murphy stared blankly at the bold Asian standing before him. Casting a sideways glance at his brother, he found Connor smiling brightly at him. "I fuckin' broke my ribs! It fuckin' hurts to get up. I'm stayin' in bed!"

Mama He's faced harden. She took several slow, intimidating steps towards Murphy before crouching to be eye level with him. "You so disrespectful! I know your mama taught you better than that! You no cuss at an elderly woman. What's wrong with you?

"I broke my ribs." Murphy punctuated each word. "It hurts. And if you want to talk about being disrespectful, you're the one who came in here telling me that I'm ugly and I smell!"

"Oh, honey, I was being honest. You only ugly because you smell and look dirty. With shower, you clean and handsome like your brother. I tell you what, you shower and when you done I have special tea for you. It has healing in it, you feel better no time!"

"Murph, ye won't win. Just get up."

Murphy sighed in resignation. Gingerly, he sat up taking his time and for once putting thought into each movement. He let out an audible moan when he finally stood and swaying slightly on his feet. He stuck his hand out and grazed the wall as he slowly made his way into the bathroom. Neither Connor nor Mama He moved until they heard the shower turn on minutes later.

"Ok, honey, you eat now, I clean."

Connor plopped on to a nearby seat and uncovered his meal. He had all the essentials before him. Pancakes smothered in maple syrup, bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns and of course, an assortment of fruits; strawberries, bananas, cantaloupe, oranges and more. Connor had to admit that he wasn't one to eat his fruits and vegetables very often. He also had to admit that Mama He was right, they were delicious.

Murphy soon stumbled out of the shower looking fresher and more alert than he had before. His movements where still carefully executed, but he seemed to be breathing better. He looked slightly startled at the chubby Asian woman that was hurrying around their room. She scooted past him and into the bathroom where she proceeded to quickly clean up.

Murphy gingerly sat beside his brother and stared at the assortment of food sitting before him. He grabbed a slice of bacon and began to happily munch on it. They sat in a contented silence before Mama He poked her head back into their view, handing Murphy a large mug of steaming tea.

"Drink. It's special tea. Handed down many generations, make you feel much better."

Murphy sniffed the tea in distaste. It had quite a pungent smell to it. But if Murphy had learned anything in his life, it was that medicine always tasted terrible. He briefly wondered why that was and how with all the marvels in the world, they couldn't come up with something that people wanted to take. Like a beer flavored cough syrup or chocolate aspirin. Murphy had a hunch that if he was a chemist, he would make millions. But Murphy sucked it up and took a gulp of the warm, amber liquid.

It was thicker than what he expected. He coated his throat as it went down and warmed his body. He didn't want to admit it to the old lady, but it actually tasted quite good. He drank and ate quietly for a while, lost in his own world. He began to think about last night's events and how they were going to proceed from there. They had no car, no money and were stranded in an unfamiliar place. Murphy hoped that Fredo Adamo had no connections that he needed to worry about. The likelihood of that was slim though.

Murphy was stuck. He had no idea how to proceed now and he doubted that Connor knew either. The only logical thing was to call Smecker. Hopefully he knew who Adamo was and could give them some tips on what to do next.

He hated to do it though. Murphy had a strong independence streak that ran through him. He had had it through childhood and could easily think of several instances that his unwillingness to ask for help had ended up screwing him over. Murphy glanced over to his twin and was surprised to find him dialing the phone. Apparently Connor's train of thoughts ended where Murphy's did. Connor put the phone on speakerphone and threw it to the table as it rang aloud.

"Smecker."

"We need yer help."

"Well, well, Connor, it looks like the lamb has run to the lion for its protection."

"Fuck off."

Smecker quietly laughed into the phone. "I do most nights."

Murphy cringed at the visual.

"I've been researching that child murderer you've been after and he's quite a sicko. He reminds me a lot of the BTK killer for kids. I look forward to when you finally catch him. They've narrowed it down to three possible people, Charlie Kent, Michael Shaffer or Taylor Woodworth. I have their addresses ready for you."

"We're not in Florida. We're stuck in fuckin' Georgia. We have someone else we need some information on. Who is Fredo Adamo?"

Smecker snickered into the phone again bringing another disturbing visual in Murphy's head. He could just see him laying in his bedroom with a red silken robe on, lazily twirling the phone chord around his fingers. He shuddered trying to physically shake himself of that thought.

The MacManus brothers heard Smecker move and the quiet tapping sound of a keyboard in the background.

"Hrm…the way you attract evil men like this astounds me. Fredo Adamo plays a major role in Boston's gambling district. His brother, Desi is the Don. Apparently poor Fredo was recently found dead. A car accident in...Georgia. Shocker. Adamo is linked to a series of violent deaths and has been known to provoke wars and take over other territories. He certainly sounds like the type who would come after someone who killed his brother."

Connor and Murphy both swore to themselves. They were never going to make it to Florida at this rate. They were so close too, another state and a half to go and they can take out their intended target and relax on the beach with some Captain Morgan. They had to plan their next move wisely. Someone was coming after them. They had no idea what he looked like or where he was.

"We don't got shit. We got in a wreck and lost everything. No money, no car, and only one fuckin' hand gun. We're fucked."

The keyboard clicking the background had begun again.

"Now Connor, there's no need to be pessimistic. Find a Bank of America and I'll give you access to my…_special account_. Take all the money you need, but remember, you'll need to repay me for it. We can figure out _those_ details later. There's a guy in Atlanta who can help you rebuild your collection. His name is Seth Hodgkins. He's a sketchy man, but I assure you he has everything you need."

"Thanks. How are we going to find Seth?"

"I'll give him a ring-a-ding-ding and let him know you're coming. He'll find you."

Connor scribbled down all the information needed to access the bank account. He knew that they owned Smecker for everything he was helping them with right now, but he would have to figure it out later. He was just happy to have the start of an escape plan at the moment.

They quickly dressed themselves and left the hotel. The first stop had to be a clothing store. Their signature style was bloodied and torn and was attracting attention from everyone that they passed. Staying low key was something that they often struggled with. It seemed that no matter how hard they tried, people always noticed them. The poor high school girl seemed terrified when she was helping them.

Shortly after they found themselves at a used car lot faced with a sketchy, fast talking man name Ray. Ray was a balding man. He stood as tall as the MacManus brother, but he was more portly than the twins. Not only did Ray like to talk, Ray liked to yell. Connor and Murphy found themselves being yelled at from across the lot.

"This one here! This is the car you need! Imagine all the tang that you would get driving this car!"

Connor and Murphy found themselves exchanging looks between each other. Buying a car from this man would be tricky. Murphy walked toward the car the man was indicating at and found a used Lexus. It was an older version, blue in color, but was badly faded from lack of care. While the interior did appear to be leather, the roof was cracked and falling. Murphy sighed to himself and kicked the tire of the shitty car before him. He could tell already that it was going to be a very long day.

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Desi glanced out of the window at the small police station. It appeared innocent enough. There was a group of officers loitering outside the station. They tried to look casual as they smoked their cigarettes, but they couldn't help but to watch Desi with hopeful anticipation. Apparently they were looking for some action and Desi looked like someone who would cause trouble. They had no idea how much trouble he could cause.

He shuffled out of the car and adjusted his black Armani suit. With a small flick of his wrist, he sent his driver off. He confidently walked past the group of men hoping to goad them in starting a fight with him. He was beyond angry and he needed to kill someone. Unfortunately when he walked past the group, none of them took the bait.

As he walked into the station a hushed silence fell as everyone turned to look at the stranger who walked in. A nervous disheveled man jolted up to him and thrust out his hand. "Hello there, I'm uhh…I'm Mr. Turner. Donnie Turner."

"Desi Adamo"

"Yes, yes, I uhh…I know you quite well. Please, please, follow me to my office, Mr. Adamo or uhh…or should I call you…?"

"Mr. Adamo works fine."

Desi followed the man down a boring corridor. It was entirely white and nothing hung on the walls. When they finally arrived at Mr. Turner's office, it was no shock to find it completely chaotic. There were no windows, which proved to be a good thing because the room was covered in stacks of papers that were precariously balanced. The slightest breeze would have caused the entire room to collapse. Mr. Turner hurried over to a small leather chair sitting in front of what he assumed was a desk. He grabbed yet another stack of papers and circled around looking for the perfect spot for them. With a sigh, he carefully put them atop of one of the shortest stacks, keeping his hands outstretched before him in hopes of catching the pile should it tip over.

"Please, please sit Mr. Adamo."

Desi plopped down at the chair and stared at the man. He was beginning to get frustrated already. How could this idiot be his mole? He could barely hold himself together. His hair was uncombed, his clothes were wrinkled, clearly this man did not take pride in his appearance. The nervous man grabbed his glasses and a nearby stack of papers.

"So uhh...Mr. Adamo, so we found your brother umm…Fredo. We found Fredo down a hill about two miles from the main highway. He appeared to have died on impact and we wouldn't have suspected any uhh…foul play if we hadn't noticed another car about 10 yards from Fredo. It was uhh…almost completely submerged."

Desi stared blankly at the man before rubbing his temples. It was like this man's brain just stopped mid-sentence every few seconds. It was really quite frustrating.

"So whose car was it?"

"Well…see…since there were no other bodies there, we could only assume that the person who drove in to the lake is alive and fled the scene, which is really…quite suspicious, you know. So we ran the plate and uhh…it belongs to an Anna Love in Boston. The uhh…funny thing is that Mrs. Sarah Love died eight years ago. We contracted her survivors, a uhh…Kevin Noel in Detroit and he told us that his mother had sold the car two years before her death because Sarah had macular degeneration. Which is really a shame because uh...my mother had that too and uh…it was a struggle."

"Let me get this straight, Mr. Turner. You have no idea who the car belongs to. I drove from Massachusetts to South Carolina for you to waste my time? I really don't like people who waste my time."

"No! No, I'm not wasting anyone's time. I don't think it's a coincidence that uhh…your brother and these other people were from Boston. When we found Fredo, he uhh..he had coins over his eyes and I researched that and it seemed to be a trademark to one of your so called...uh…vigilantes in Boston. Saints, they're called because the only go after criminals. Though it could be a copy cat killer. The uh…Saints put pennies over the eyes and uhh…Fredo had a quarter and a dime over his eyes."

"So where are they now?"

"We uhh…we don't' know. We tried to track them, there were uhh…two sets of footprints leading away from the car. We could track them for several miles, but they hit the main road and we lost them after that. But we're uhh…we're still deciphering the clues at the crime scene and hopefully uhh…we'll catch a break and find them."

Desi took out a cigar and began smoking. He watched as the smoke lazily drifted above his head. It was quite interesting to find that the two Irishmen that his brother went after were the Saints of South Boston. He quite liked this new twist. Now not only will he avenge his brother, but he would avenge all the other people these two douchebags killed. A smile creeped over Desi's face and he let out a small chuckled.

This was going to be quite fun.


End file.
